The Second Assassin
by Vampiyaa
Summary: Sequel to Altair's Chronicles. Altair has always been a lone assassin, but now a sexy new female assassin named Alya insists on coming with him on his search for Adha. She's beautiful, she's a tease, she happens to be Adha's sister... and she makes Altair feel bothered. With all that unresolved sexual tension, what could happen? Lemon.
1. An Assassin Worthy of Me

Chapter 1

An Assassin Worthy Of Me

"I'll find you, Adha," whispered Altair firmly, squeezing his gloved fists together.

The wreckage of several burning boats was sinking into the water before him, Lord Basilisk's body was bleeding at Altair's feet, and the air was thick with smoke. Through the haze, Altair was watching a grand ship sail off into the distance. His mission had been quite surprising— kill Lord Basilisk, and claim the Chalice. He had then discovered that the Chalice was a woman, but not just any woman.

Adha was the Chalice, and despite the fact that Altair had killed Lord Basilisk, the Templars had still taken Adha. He had failed his mission. Altair's ears immediately pricked up as he heard a whispering sound coming from behind him. He kept the dagger on his arm ready, hidden in his sleeve, as he ventured away from the boatyard and back into the city. The streets of Tyre were now bustling as villagers screamed and ran and shouted that the boatyard was on fire. But there was nothing out of the ordinary that Altair could see. Perhaps the roaring of the fire had impaired his hearing.

Altair slid the dagger back in place and instead leapt toward the wall to climb up to the rooftops. He crouched like a frog atop a jutting edge of a hole-in-the-wall, squinting through the smoke to try and see which direction the ship was heading. Unfortunately, the haze and heat from the fire was making the ship's image flicker, making it impossible to determine its heading. He heard a rustling sound, and immediately whirled his head around. Nobody was behind him. At that moment, something fell out of his pocket. Altair's hand shot out and caught it before it fell into the streets, and he saw that it was an old, yellowed parchment with something written on it, in an elegant scrawl.

_Take heed, assassin Altair: you must give up your search for the Chalice. If you do not, you will be silence by the foreign melody sang on the winds. Beware._

Altair's eyes narrowed at the paper, curiously intrigued. Whoever had written this note knew him and his search for Adha, and had actually managed to slip it into his robes undetected. To do this, she or he must also be an assassin, perhaps with as much skill or more as Altair, but with little knowledge of his personality, for anyone who'd met him would have known that he was not so easily wavered from his missions. So instead of heeding the note's message, Altair crushed it in his gloved fist and jumped down from the ledge, landing between a couple of startled Templar guards.

"Where have they taken Adha?" he said in a low voice. "What is the destination of the Chalice?"

The Templars' looks of astonishment vanished into sneers and they both drew their swords.

"We shall never tell, Assassin," said the tallest guard. With grace and ease Altair hooked his grappling hook around the first Templar and yanked him forward, and the blade that was hidden in his sleeve slid out and sank into the guard's stomach. He dropped to the ground, leaving the other guard looking nowhere near as cocky as before.

"Perhaps that example has persuaded you, Templar," Altair growled. "Where… is… Adha?"

"I- I know nothing!" stammered the guard, dropping his sword and falling to his knees. "But I do know someone who has information!" he piped up.

"Tell me."

"On the eastern side of Tyre, in the market, there are two guards standing by the gates of the city. They are not guards, but spies, and were put there by Lord Basilisk to ensure the Chalice's capture. They know all of Basilisk's secrets."

Altair nodded. "Useful information."

He then pounced on the guard and pierced him with the hidden poison needle on his ring finger, who dropped dead immediately. Altair straightened up and turned his head east, squinting in the bright sunlight. He clambered onto a ledge and jumped across the roofs. Suddenly he realized he could no longer hear the chattering of village folk. Altair looked down curiously to see no guards, no people… the village square was completely deserted. And then out of nowhere, he heard a voice crooning out a song softly in a foreign language.

"_C'est le jour finale de ta vie… Cours, mon chaton, allez-y…_"

Altair strained to hear the voice. The voice was clearly female, and the language was French, but no matter how hard he tried he could not figure out where the voice was coming from. As far as he could see, the square was deserted.

"_Pour te tuer, je suis tres enchantee… Cours, mon chaton, allez, allez…_"

Altair was immediately slammed onto his stomach by a force from behind. He retaliated immediately, whipping out his sword and swiping behind him while flipping to his feet. It was a woman that had aerial-attacked him— _a suicidal woman, _Altair thought confusedly. She was clad not in the usual white assassin robes, similar to the ones he bore, but in white thigh-and-leg armour and a strong chest breastplate that complimented her breast size and gave her less protection, but more agility and ability to move quickly. The woman also had straight, long auburn hair that fell to her waist, twinkling green, catlike eyes and a face of cruel beauty. She also bore the same weapons as Altair— the ring on his finger that held a poison-tipped needle, the hidden daggers attached to the metal cuffs on her wrists, a sword in a leather sheath and a crossbow slung over her back. She was quite short, but with strong arms and thighs.

"I shall not fight you," announced Altair, withdrawing his sword but keeping his dagger hidden, just to be safe. "You are not only a woman, but a fellow assassin. Why have you attacked me unprovoked?"

"I warned you, _mon chaton,_" she said gaily, her eyes flashing.

Her voice was strangely airy, thick with a French accent and quite feminine, and would have more suited a petite dancer than a tough assassin. "I warned you to stop your search Adha, Altair, and you did not heed my words. I'm afraid I have no choice… but to kill you."

Altair straightened his back, knowing full well that she was quite serious.

"Then I'm afraid I will have to fight back, and when I win I must kill you as well," Altair said lowly.

He drew his sword from his sheath again and readied himself as the woman lunged at him. He deflected her swing of the sword with his own, and was momentarily stunned when he felt her strong thighs clamp around his waist and flip him onto his back. The shock vanished immediately, and Altair leapt to his feet once more, this time tossing a line of daggers at her. The woman took the position of a contortionist and avoided each and every one of his daggers. Altair couldn't help but smile underneath the shadow of his hood— it was rather like he was battling himself instead of a female. The woman flipped backward, and with surprising strength she landed sideways, catlike on the wall, and pushed off to lunge at Altair. He only just saw the poison-tipped needle whip out of her ring, and he ducked his head to the side just in time. The needle just barely missed his neck, and now the woman toppled on top of him, once again pushing him onto his back. The woman brought her dagger up, but did not plunge it down. Altair took this opportunity.

"I wonder, who exactly did you train with?" Altair asked with a chuckle, as he lay on the ground. "And what do you want with Adha?"

The woman actually lowered her dagger and narrowed her emerald eyes. "You know that the Chalice is actually Adha?" Before he could answer she leaned in close and whispered in his ear, "She is my sister and I want her so that I may hide her."

Altair was once again momentarily stunned, before he shook himself back to reality. "Then maybe we should not be fighting, and instead we should be working together."

The woman scoffed and got up off of him immediately. "Even though you are a worthy opponent, _mon chaton_, it does not change the fact that I always work alone."

"I always work alone as well," Altair said, sliding to his feet. "But that fact that you are equal to me in skill makes me obligated to offer. Because I will not give up searching for Adha— she is counting on me. And if I am forced to consider you my enemy, I must also kill you."

"My sister knows you well?" the woman asked curiously, turning to face him.

"Well enough," Altair said vaguely. "I also have information about Adha's location. I must know I am able to trust you if we are to work together."

The woman's eyes narrowed, trying to detect a hint of deception in him. She apparently detected none, because she withdrew her sword and straightened up.

"I am Alya," she introduced. "I know you are Altair. I have followed your progress in finding my sister."

Altair was clearly impressed— it took great skill to follow a man like Altair and not be detected.

"A Templar told me that there are two guards at the eastern gate to the city, who are actually Basilisk's right-hand spies," Altair explained calmly. "We must get them to tell us where that ship is taking Adha."

"We shall go from the rooftops," Alya said immediately, whirling around and climbing up the wall to the roof. Altair followed suit, and they both sprinted across the rooftops toward the easternmost gate.

"There they are," Alya whispered.

The two of them lunged from the rooftops and landed behind the two guards, both of them bringing their daggers up two the guards' throats.

"_Bonjour_, spies," greeted Alya. "We seek information."

"Where is the Chalice being taken?" Altair demanded, loosening the dagger's push on the Templar guard's throat to allow him to speak. "Do not deny that you know anything."

"Jerusalem!" choked the guard.

"Lord Basilisk had an Underground Chamber built underneath the city of Jerusalem," added the guard Alya was holding. "But we have never been there!"

Alya and Altair both whipped their daggers the side in sync, slashing both of the guards' throats and causing scarlet blood to splatter upon the dirt. Alya turned her back on the bodies and said firmly, "We will need a boat."

"We can get one from the boatyard, provided it hasn't completely burned down," Altair replied.

This time the two of them didn't bother travelling from the rooftops; they instead sprinted side by side through the deserted square.

"Out of complete curiosity, what does 'mon chaton' mean?" Altair asked as they ran. He heard Alya chuckle beside him.

"It means 'my kitten'," she explained, her catlike eyes flashing again.

"And the song?"

"'It's the final day of your life… run, my kitten, go. To kill you, I am very delighted… run, my kitten, go, go."

Altair actually laughed at the song translation. Now the boatyard was deserted as well, and there was no longer a fire, just ashy remains of boats and docks.

"There are three boats here," Altair said, walking to the edge of the dock. "There's no way we can row all the way to Jerusalem in these."

"Come, _mon chaton_," said Alya, gesturing for him to follow her.

Altair smiled at the nickname and followed her around the docks to the untouched part. There were several other untouched boats, all unworthy of such a trip. And then there was the cargo ship, on which were several merchants loading barrels of oil and gunpowder, unaffected by the previous fire on the other side of the pier.

"Oil and gunpowder… the main riches traded to Tyre and Acre from Jerusalem," Alya examined. "There doesn't appear to be Templars on the ship."

"Nevertheless, we should sneak aboard," Altair said darkly. "We should hide with the cargo until we reach Jerusalem."

And with that the two assassins slipped aboard and into the lower decks.

**A/N: this is a little lemon fic I put together just for the heck of it. Takes place after Assassin's Creed: Altair's Chronicles, when the Templars take away Adha. Alya is my character. :) this isn't going to be very long, only like 5 chapters max. R&R!**


	2. En Route to Adha

Chapter 2

En Route To Adha

Altair woke to a thumping sound and a jerking motion. He and Alya, who was still slumbering alertly propped up again the wall, had hidden behind the barrels of oil and gunpowder on the ship to Jerusalem. Clearly the ship had just reached land. Altair reached over with one gloved hand and prodded her gently awake.

She opened her eyes immediately, as if she hadn't been asleep at all, and said, "We are there?"

"Yes."

She stood up immediately and peered over the barrels of oil. "The merchants are gone. Let us take our leave, _mon chaton_."

Altair once again smirked at the pet name and followed her onto the upper deck. The two of them immediately climbed down the side of the ship and landed on the soft grass, slipping into the city. A group of Templars were angrily crowding around a particular building, banging on the doors.

"There's an abnormally large number of Templar guards over there…" Altair noted confusedly.

He felt Alya tense beside him.

"That is my home," she said softly. "Damn, they must have found my father."

Before Altair could ask anything Alya climbed up onto the roof of a shop and jumped across. Altair followed her movements, until they were on the roof of what Alya had claimed to be her home. They entered the house through trapdoor in the roof.

The first thing Altair saw was a bearded man, who was laying on his back, blood pouring from his stomach.

_This must be Alya's father._

"They found you, _papa_?" Alya said quietly, kneeling next to him.

"_Oui, mon cher_," he said, wincing again the pain of his wound. "I am not going to live. Please, find our Adha and get to her before the Templars do. The only way to get into the Underground Chamber that Lord Basilisk built is to sneak into the Templar hospital. There are stairs in the west wing leading—" the man stopped to groan. "—leading down to a labyrinth. Only the Templars know how to get through it. There is a map you can steal from them… they each have a copy."

The man shuddered and was still.

"_Oui, papa_," said Alya firmly, rising and turning to Altair.

There was no sadness in her eyes, only determination and ice.

"We have our heading, _mon chaton_," she said. "Let's go."

"Will we not mourn for your father?"

"No time. Adha is in danger now. _Allez_-_y_."

Altair followed her back up through the trapdoor and across the rooftops, staring at her firmly the whole way to the Templar Hospital, trying to find some sort of hint that she was even the least bit sad over her father's death. He saw no sign whatsoever that she was upset. He sighed to himself under his breath. Apparently, becoming part of the Assassins' Creed had turned her heart almost cold.

"We'll have to sneak in through there," said Alya, pointing to the window on the back of the Templar Hospital. "The guards will not see us."

The two assassins slid from the rooftops, climbed over the walls and swung through the window. They'd entered a sickroom, where there were several unconscious Templars either bleeding or broken lying on top of beds. Altair and Alya slipped through the throng of sick, being as silent as possible so as not to wake them. The two of them then ran down the stairs and quickly ducked behind a pillar as two Templar physicians appeared from the hall.

"We must get to the lower levels," whispered Alya, once the physicians had disappeared up the stairs. "Come, _mon chaton_."

Altair grinned and followed her down the hall. Suddenly the two of them heard footsteps emerging from the lower flight of stairs. Alya reacted quicker— she grabbed Altair's wrist and flung him to the ground behind a corner. Alya then flattened herself against him, her thighs clamped firmly around his waist, her sturdy arms around his neck and her mouth quite close to his ear. Altair froze, both from shock and for the sake of staying hidden. His cheek was pressed against her collarbone, her scent of honey and cloves was dizzying him, and despite the situation they were in he was getting quite a clear view down Alya's chest armour. Never, in all his years of living, breathing and assassinating, had he been held like so by a woman. The footsteps of the Templars' got louder and louder as they came further up the stairs, and then faded again when they ventured down the hall. Alya exhaled slowly, releasing the air from her lungs when she'd held her breath to avoid detection. Then she chuckled.

"Your posture says that you have never yet embraced a woman like so," Alya purred in his ear. "Have you never even been kissed, _mon chaton_?"

"I can never have a woman," was Altair's firm answer. "It is the rules of the Creed. Women would distract us from the missions."

"You are the only assassin in the Order who has followed that rule," said Alya with a laugh, slithering off of him and making sure to trail her fingers along his neck as she did so.

Alya did not miss Altair's shudder; he did not blush, but a controlled pink tinge did appear on his cheeks that was barely visible from the shadow of his hood. "I myself have not taken that rule into account. You see, _mon chaton_, only the ones in our Creed without the determination to get back to the woman waiting for them at home…" she turned her back on him with a smirk, "… end up dead."

Altair rose slowly, trying not to look disgruntled, and followed as Alya slipped down the stairs in a cautious, catlike way. There was a Templar guard standing alone at a closed gate, locked firmly with an enormous padlock. Alya pounced on him immediately, clamping her hand firmly over his mouth so as not to have him scream and alert the other Templars of their presence. The Templar suddenly dropped to the ground, dead, and Altair saw the poison-tipped needle disappear back into her ring. Alya bent down and raided his travelling bag, and with a triumphant smile she withdrew a metal key and a rolled up piece of parchment, which was surely the map of the Underground Labyrinth. Altair took the map from her and unrolled it carefully, seeing thousands and thousands of tiny paths copied down in ink, along with tiny arrows printed down to indicate the path to the centre. He noticed a giant gaping hole in the centre, where he knew he'd find Adha.

Alya stuck the key into the keyhole and tossed the padlock into the corner carelessly, whipping open the gate and whispering, "Come, _mon chaton_."

Altair bit back the smile again and followed her through the gate down a pair of dusty old stone steps, the same width as the hall.

"Our first turn is to the right," Altair said seriously, walking with his eyes glued onto the map. "And after that we shall go left, left again, right and then right again until we reach a fork, where we will choose the middle path. This place must be crawling with Templar guards…"

"We shall be cautious then," said Alya simply, her voice shrinking down to a whisper.

"By the looks of the map, it'll take us a day and a half to reach Adha," Altair said, also in a whisper as he shoved the map into his robes.

Now that he did not have the map to distract him, Altair couldn't help but stare straight ahead at Alya, watching her prowl cautiously down the hallway in the feline manner that was reminiscent of her, her hips moving like a dancer's.

They reached their first corner, which Alya peered extremely cautiously around the right side.

"There are two Templars just down the hall," she said in a low voice. "_Un moment, _I have an idea."

Alya immediately tore off her Assassin's cloak and began peeling off her armour.

"What are you doing?" Altair hissed, the shadow of his hood hiding the blush that was starting to form, as she grew more naked before him by the second.

"I shall have an effect on the Templars as I have had on you, _mon chaton_," she smirked, and she slipped down the hallway dressed in nothing more than her armour and cloth from chest down to mid-thigh.

The Templars whirled around and shouted, "Hey!" but their shouts faltered immediately.

"Y-you shouldn't be down here, Miss," stammered one of them, and Altair pictured the guard's face going as red as his own.

"I'm sorry," Alya whispered, in a tone so smooth and seductive it made Altair want to peer around the corner for a look. "Would you like me to leave?"

"We never said that," smirked the second one in a gruff voice.

"Come over here," Alya crooned, and Altair's ears perked up immediately as he heard her footsteps backing towards his position. "It is dark. No one will see us."

She backed around the corner behind Altair, and both of the guards emerged just in time for the two assassins to plunge both of their daggers into the guards' stomachs. They dropped to the floor, oozing blood all over the dusty stone. Alya quickly covered their chest and legs with her cloak, making them look quite like they were merely asleep.

"That will fool whoever finds them, at least for now," Alya said seriously, before turning right around the corner again.

"Aren't you going to re-dress?" Altair asked with a smirk. "You're showing a lot more than you should."

"It might come in handy later down the road, _mon chaton_," she smirked back, prancing down the corridor again. "Why, is it distracting you?"

"Yes," said Altair bluntly, and rather firmly as if trying to convince himself as well.

Right now, he wanted her fully clothed again to complete the mission, but at the same time he wanted the exact opposite, and he knew that was absolutely foolish of him.

Without warning Alya, with her back still turned to him, took both of his hands and slid them over her shoulders into a strange sort of embrace.

"Then I will train you," she said firmly. "You must recognize a woman's curves, _mon chaton_."

She pulled him closer, casting their bodies together perfectly so that the round of her bottom was pressing onto his male parts. His face was once again buried in her auburn hair, and he was dizzied by her perfume.

"Feel her face," she said, raising his hands and skimming them over her cheeks. "The gentleness of her skin, and the shape of her lips against your fingers."

Altair couldn't help but concentrate on the feelings he was getting on his fingers as her lips parted against his fingertips. Slowly, she slid his hands down her neck and closed his palms around one rounded globe each.

"Feel her breasts, the shape of them, the roundness, the softness that arouses most…" she cooed, and Altair felt his fingers grip her breasts tightly without the influence of Alya's own hands.

Damn it, he thought bitterly, she was making him lose control.

She forced his hands down again, down her waist and her hips to her thighs, which she made him grip firmly.

"Feel her thighs, the strength and the power of them underneath your palms," Alya said quietly, and with a swift motion her hands forced his to move up and down, rubbing and stroking her inner thighs.

Altair couldn't help but notice that they were getting quite close to the place where her legs joined. And sure enough, Alya slid only one of his hands over her front to her womanhood, having his hand cupped over her area that — Altair realized as his heart pounded against his ribcage — was only covered by armour and a bit of fabric at most.

"One day, you will truly touch a woman here," Alya explained in a low voice. "You will feel the sensations you give her, feel her growing wetter underneath your hand as her desire for you grows rapidly, and you will feel the satisfaction of knowing that you are pleasing your woman."

Then Alya smirked and took her hands off of his, and as she walked out of his embrace she said over her shoulder, "But presumably, since you are an old-fashioned assassin of the Creed, it will not be anytime soon, _mon chaton_."

Altair stood there, dumbstruck for a moment, before he hurried after the scantily clad woman that had just let him touch her.

**A/N: thanks for the wait, here's the next chap :3 R&R please, special thanks to Ghostukine and Countess Vlad Dracula (which is a freaking AWESOME name btw)**


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